SANDRINGHAM.

Waikato Times, Volume XXIX, Issue 2358, 20 August 1887, Page 2 (Supplement)

SANDRINGHAM.

THE HOME OF THE PRINCE AND PRINCESS OF WALES.

When one reaches the Hull of Sandringham, the country home of the Prince and Princess of Wales, it is puzzling to know which way to turn, there arc so many things worth looking at. Perhaps, like the old fairy stories, it is best to heffin at the beginning, that is, with the gates of the royal entrance, through which tho family and mail cart arc allowed to pass. These gates are tho special admiration of country folks, for were they not made in the old city of Norwich, of the finest wrought iron worked into a laoe-like pattern of leaf and flower, and reach in to a stately height. Then they were a present to tho Prince, so that the Norfolk people feel like shareholders in them. From the gates tho drive to the hall is lined with lofty limes that throw shadows over the vivid green sward, up and down which strut with stately mien magnificent peacocks. These birds were Lord Beaoonsfiold’s own pets, which he bequeathed to the princess. When she is here they feed from her hand, and they are held as sacred by the servants as their kind used to be by the ancients, Their perfect ease in the society of strangers shows their sense of security. Passing around the hall by tho lovely lake, past the Italian gardens and tho maze of laurel, into which the young princesses, big as they are, delight to inveigle their friends, a few more turns in the path brought us to a wee thatched cottage covered with bark and half-over-grown with moss and ivy. It looked like the haunt of a fairy, but proved to be the tennis cottage, where in one tiny room the implements are kept and in the other tea is served from a " rough and ready” service.

The tennis court is a model in its way. It covers a clearing made among the old oaks and branching beeches of about eighty to fifty feet, which is apparently paved with largo blocks of stone, but which is only the new cement imitation. The excellence of this idea, in a climate where the ground is three quarters of the time wet, is apparent. Ou all sides of tho court is a fino wire netting some fifteen feet in height. Here all the family but, the Prince come often. The work, or rather the play, is too much for him, but the Princess, who is light of foot and quick of movement, can keep up with her daughters. Prom the tennis court is an easy ramble through leafy lane and flowering shrubs to the kennels. It is some seven years since I visited these and unless dogs, ,like china, have “ gone out,” I can hardly understand the change that has taken place. Then, in the cunning brick cottages that open on wellpaved courts was a splendid assortment of animals, many of them rare specimens of rare breeds. Now, at the outside, there are not more than fifty, and none of them save a Russian bloodhound from the Czar’s kennels, are in any way remarkable. There were some beautiful Pomeranians, a breed the Prince is partial to, and of a variety of colours; a lionfaced dog from China, some funny little Dahshunds, four or five retrievers, a halfbred bulldog, with a fiendish expression, and a fine family of St. Bernards. The hero of a hundred hunts was Boozy, an old Scottish greyhound, who held himself up against tho wall in a way that, made his name suggestive. Another step into the dog’s kitchen. Oh !ye poor ha’penny dinner school children, how your little stomachs would swell and eyes stick out at the sight. Two aide-bodied men grinding biscuits that wore really appetizing, a big copper full of boiling oatmeal, of the very host that could be bought iu Edinburgh, and plates of dainty little bones for delicate little doggies.

In an adjoining yard .was a number of goats. Ttiey stopped browsing and followed the konnel-keoper and myself to the boar-pit, whore “ Punch and Judy ” were sunning themselves, the former on top of a big trunk. The goats pushed up to the iron railing, to see, too, and when the big “ Punch” looked at them with a yearning gaze, they were in no way disconcerted. “Why are they so persistent ?” I asked the keeper. “Lawk, mum, it isn't often they see a lady, except the Princess, God bless her, who comes every day, rain or shine, to feed ’em, and old Billy, there, he get so wild at the sight of her that he nearly knocks her over. It's just the like of it with the dogs ; the Princess knows ’em every one by name, and they look for her every day, and make such a row as never you heard when she comes.” Not far from the kennels are the pheasant houses, long, low ranges of sheds under a wire cover, and occupying the space of a double town lot. Here are patiently sitting hundreds of hens brooding over the eggs that will furnish sport for H.R.H. and his friends. I never realised in what a cold-blooded systematic way a season’s shooting was provided for before, and I rather injured the keeper’s amour propre by remarking : “It seems to mo very much like raising chickens, to shoot thorn off their roosts.” “ Oh, no, mum,” he replied, “ they’re as wild as wild can be. I took the answer with a grain of salt, for how birds bred in and fed in captivity, and used to the presence of man, could suddenly become “game” by being let loose and well scared, I can’t see. From four to five, and some years as many as eight thousand pheasants are slaughtered here, to say nothing of quantities of teal, snipe, rabbits, and partridges. Curiously enough, the Princess, with whose gentle character the sport seems at variance, is fond of accompanying the gentlemen on a shooting expedition. Clad in a short tweed gown, tailor-made, with a close cloth toque on her head, and a pair of real top boots on her feet, she does not hesitate to cross one ploughed field after another, nor allow herself to be baulked by the awkwardnos of a stile or a wild hedge. When the ■ Princess does not start with the shooting party in the morning, she, with her daughters and ladies, joins the men on the rendezvous agreed upon for lunch. Here a tent is pitched, hampers of good things unpacked, and a real picnic meal enjoyed, while deeds of pheasant valour are recorded; The outside world has an idea that the Princess of Wales is a delicate woman. The impression has been created through the fact that the birth of her last child left her lame for some time, that she has had several attacks of rheumatism, and unfortunately suffers from the hereditary deafness of her family. The truth is that the Princess is a woman of naturally sound constitution and health ; both developed and insured by her extreme simplicity of life as a child and'young girl, when loose dresses, plenty of rough exercise and plain food were part of her lot. As the Princess Alexandra of Denmark she made her own everyday clothes, learned to excel in cooking, especially for the ill, could ride without a saddle and beat her brother, the present King of Greece, in a foot race. The result is that she has been enabled to bring five healthy children into the world, besides fulfilling the multitudinous duties of state and society, and yet to enjoy the very beat of health. The slight limp, yet perceptible in her gait, gives her no pain, nor does it prevent her from walking five or six miles every day, clouds or sunshine. She merely adapts her dress to the weather, doubtless one secret of her health, and goes out just the same. To feed all the animals and pets, from the peacocks and cockatoo to old “Boozy” in his kennel, "Punch” in his pit, and “Nanoli,” the favourite Alderney in her stall, is a daily pleasure with the princess, while skating for throe hours at a stretch, walking through ploughed fields, pitching bowls and playing tennis are none of them amusements a frail woman could indulge in. ‘ jThc princess is also very fond of horseback riding, and is readily discerned in a party of equestrians by her sitting on the reverse side, which her knee obliges her to do. She seldom follows the hounds, but never fails to bo present at the East Norfolk meets, sometimes driving herself

in a pretty wagonette and sometimes appearing in the famous Hungarian turnout, the present of Prince Henry of Battenherg. This consists of six beautiful thoroughbred Hungarian horses, in build very much like the Arab steeds, slender of body, small of foot, with tine heads and arching necks, spirited and sensitive to the touch. The horses are harnessed two abreast, and the light trappings of red leather, studded with gilt buttons and hung with red tassels, leaving them almost free, act off their dark, shining coat to advantage. It seems that on their arrival in England no coachman could he found who could manage them. The beautiful creatures had never been touched with a whip nor had their months pulled at. The first attempt at driving them ended so disastrously that Prince Henry sent to Hungary for a native driver, who now gits on his box, the hero of admiring crowds. The driver wears a long tunio of green, fastened round his waist with a broad red belt ; on his head a tight turban, with a long black plume stuck in front and waving continually in the air. Big top boots faced with red leather complete his attire. Karoyliu’s face is dark and swarthy, his hair long and black, Ins countenance impertnrable. Holding tho reins lightly in one hand, he calls out in low, soft tones to his horses their orders, addressing them each by name, and to every word the intelligent animals respond with tho docility of a child.

To return to the Princess’ country life ; You can see that time has no chance to hang heavily on her hands. When alone with the family she spends part of every day with the villagers and tenants, who alike adore her. To see that they are comfortable, that the children are going to school, to find out those who are ill or in want, to encourage the little girls in neat sewing, and to look at the boys’ prise garden plots, or some old woman’s new brood of chickens—in short, to interest herself in their simple joys, and even more their sorrows—is something she never forgets. Every Sunday morning the royal host and hostess, with their family, lead the way through avenues of old Scotch firs, and across a broad, ■ green meadow, to the quaint little church of Mary Magdalene. All their guests and household accompany them, and when they are seated only standing room is left. The church is built of the dark Norfolk stone, and has a picturesque tower and battlements, with ivy that lends its gentle charm, and over the door, in a niche, stands the well-carved figure of a guardian angel, in white marble. The approach to the church is through a black side gate, and a yard green with turf, its smooth surface broken too often by graves. The singular bad taste of one struck me, and I paused for a longer look. A slab of marble once white, but now stained and dirty, headed by n clumsy cross, and the whole fenced in by bars of iron, painted a bright lavender picked with gilt. On the cross was engraved •* Suffer little children to come unto Me,' 1 and on the stone I deciphered with difficulty the inscription “ Alexander John Charles Albert, April 11th, 1571.” This was the infant Prince who lived only' to be christened, and was horn in the same year that his royal father was destined to descend into the valley itself, and to emerge to be ever afterward the people’s idol of respectability. There is no doubt, of the radical good that illness did the Prince, and a touching proof of the effect it had on him at the time is to be seen in a plain marble orossa that m irks a grave from which were springing blue violets and white snow-drops. On the faoa of the cross were the words : “Charles Blagg, Aged Twenty. ‘Nearer My God to Thee.” On ths reverse side was, in large scrip, a sentence fraught.with meaning : “ The one was taken, and the other left.” The one taken wan a young and favourite groom of the Prince of Wales, who fell ill at the same time, of the same dread disease as the royal master, but who, in spite of his robust and superior strength, died, while the one who was “ left,” was still battling for life. Little is said and little known about this stone, which, with its inscription, was chosen by the Prince ; but to my mind it should prove a strong link between Prince and people.